enticing new world

The pages of the calendar seem to flutter past rapidly like a montage in a black and white classic film. Days go by so fast, with work being more and more a high priority, taking more and more of my time and energy. I walk in and start cutting hair and find that all my previous problems seem to have dissipated, and the art form I’ve been dedicating my days to mostly is consuming my energy, and boosting my positivity to maximum capacity.

As my mentor who trained me to fine tune my art has said, if you need anything, it will find you here. An electrician, a plumber, some tummy tightening gym equipment, she’s found everything she’s needed in her clientele that ranges from the every day joe construction worker to the former police chief of San Francisco.

My wandering ways have come to a near grinding halt with the posession of my fine new apartment in the heart of historical and beautiful Cherry District downtown. My spacious one bedroom has been filled with decorations and candles, posters and cheerful lights, a coffee maker that is perfectly cute shiny and black, and a luxuriously comfortable black canopy bed.

Where from here, I ask myself, will I go? I do not know.

With the new president in office, I can only be one of the cheerful many, with hope in their hearts and the will to make it through the ugly times ahead. The changing attitude of the nation is contagious, I can only let it take hold of me and be whisked forward into the future with a smile and a notion that good times are coming.

aimless and homeless

Vagabond, me, wandering girl. Small distances, place to place, from wonderment inspiring incident to the next curiosity. Layered down heavy and my boots strapped on, handbag expanded to maximum capacity to carry my necessary things.

The only thing that saves my sanity during tough periods like this, where I’m down and out or straight up homeless, is the ability to create something or write something. Cornering my frustrations, my pen glides easy over moleskin pages and I find myself sucked into a sketch or a poem. This, and of course, the support of friends.

Packing our belongings, I half wanted to toss most of the remaining bits and pieces in the trash, to the dismay of Ben, “We need that!”. The thought occurred and re-occurred to me numerous times, “We don’t need any of this.” And It is true, I don’t need half the things I have. The more things we have packed away in various places and out of sight, the more I think I don’t even want anything to do with any of it. The comfort of a bed is luxury, as is the sound of your favorite songs, CDs and iPods. If I’m bound to be spending my nights sleeping prettymuch anywhere, anyhow, I’m not really all that worried about the rest of it all.

 

distractions, distractions, no time for runonsentences journaling today.

Autumn Rain

Ah, Election Day! Patriotic bursts of horn honking at intersections where people dance with signs rooting for their yes or their no, their man or their woman. Kind of like watching a football game, but far more interactive.

Santa Rosa continues to be an amusing and interesting place to be for me. Some old lady tweaker is in the Library’s Cafe with a gigantic faux Louis Vuitton bag in front of her, smearing her face with a grayish shade of foundation starting from around the corners of her nose, outward towards her cheeks and under eyes, neglecting most areas of her face entirely. If she didn’t already look half dead (as tweakers often do) she will when she’s finished.

All manner of high school characters have moved on to become generally more or less more comfortable with their various forms of dorkyness, here at the local community college. The only differences really are that people openly smoke cigarettes on the non smoking campus. The geek that hunkers down, pack high on the back, and runs a strange awkward run from class to home or the bus stop… The hackey-sack crowd, half of which look stoned out of their skulls, kick around a soccer ball patterned hackey sack until it goes under a car stopped in traffic going through the campus… And here in the Library both the studious and the mischievous pack together to study and peruse bored.com on the Internet.

Halloween was by far the most calm holiday I’ve experienced in my life, this year, with Ben and I sitting in our darkly lit hallway beside the glow of candles and skelaton shaped christmas lights, drinking beer and eating candy. Our housemates who seem to enjoy celebrating every holiday and often just Wednesdays with beer pong had all left and we turned out our stereo and chilled out in the unusual calm.

The Saturday after, Devour The Masses, one of the other bands Saint Ben is in, played two shows. I sat in on one at a bar and finally had the chance to see another local band, History, play– Some friends of Saint Ben. We drank a few pitchers of beer, and Saint Ben and JB (History’s drummer) monkeyed around and generally goofed off for the majority of the night, and when it was all done and History played last we all packed into our various vehicle’s and gave our farewells in the most raucous ways possible. Honking, shouting, hanging out of windows, chasing a random possum, and climbing onto the hoods of various moving vehicles, and then some.

With the coming of the crazy intense rain season, and the newer acquaintances I have been making, this will surely shape up to be a very interesting Winter.

pirates

Well, hello windy rain spotted October 30th, so lovely to be acquainted.

Things have for the most part settled down with my life here in Santa Rosa, with a steady job as a hair stylist, a steady boyfriend (My Saint Ben, I’ve known for 3 years prior to this), and a schedule to keep. For the most part, the adventuring ways have come to a grinding halt, but the appearance of Pirates around Santa Rosa never ceases, it seems.

After a hellish attempt at making my way through Rohnert Park for an appointment, I ended up coming home on the return route before getting there. Worst public transportation, the Sonoma County Transit, since experiences in adventuring from Great Lakes to Chicago Illinois on the two way train that makes a simple straight shot through several towns.

Amazingly enough, after the day I saw seven pirates come out of various places on one lunch break one day (four out of a Starbucks, and three more out of the WaMu right next to it)  I spotted another today in sensible pirate garb.

Dearest Self

Aug.03.2007 8:56pm  

Next time you think it would be a good idea while drunk at five a.m. in the morning to gulp down a gigantic towering cup of Lavender Latte, remember what happened today.
Spur of the moment, always making these immediate and random decisions, I decide while drunk and at the register at Tully’s not to get the usual coffee but a Lavender Latte. This, of course, upon thinking about it for half a second, seemed like a good idea but flowers and coffee do not mix well (apparently). Cue insta-hangover.
And smoking down town Pleasanton in the morning is impossible. Genvieve and I were at Tully’s doing what people do at cafes, discussing god knows what with loud gestures over a stack two-high of very thick books (”The multiple orgasm of books– 1,001 Books To Read Before You Die” Says Genvieve) with cigarette in hand, and deciding the morning sun is quite brutal on my brand new lavender induced headache we get up to move when a cranky old man in front of Tully’s goes “DON’T FORGET YOUR BUTTS. $1,050.00 FINE FOR SMOKING WITHIN 15 FEET OF A BUILDING. DON’T FORGET TO TAKE YOUR BUTTS WITH YOU.” And so we glared, picked up our butts and tossed them in the trash. I don’t care about picking up after my mess, as long as someone says something POLITELY. So we move across the street to another cafe, and we are on the other side of this building with a bunch of those little bistro tables and I see Shaina walking across the street. She comes over and after warning to be careful of not being caught by cafe owner for smoking cigarettes from a rather pleasant old man finishing up his cigar, we light up our cigarettes and almost immediately this dick on a cellphone comes up and says “Excuse me. No smoking in front of this cafe. Don’t leave the butts on MY sidewalk.” And I say, lets take a walk, ladies… so we do.
So I’m hung over and pissed the fuck off so I take my Tully’s lavender swill and dump it on the ground, cup and all and say, lets meet up at Hacienda Starbucks, yes? I NEVER get shit there for smoking and I’m there like two times a day. So we do, and I catch Shaina up on recent events to the amusement of Genvieve, who really didn’t know that much about this general circle of friends until earlier today. We meet a very sweet Boxer 2 year old puppy, that Gen & us sort of look after when the owner goes in to grab a cup of joe because she’s whimpering and so so cute. It is true, puppies are chick magnets because this puppy had a table full of us chicks totally won over.
Anyway, Genvieve took me home because I looked like I might DIE soon in the morning heat and sunlight after the Lavender Death Drink of large proportions.

I came home, remembered it was my dad’s birthday and made him a card with the United States’ first submarine used in combat in 1776 (Revolutionary War) on it, The Turtle as it is called, because some men were just arrested for taking a Turtle replica way far down below somewhere on the east coast, and I thought it was ridiculous that anyone would trap themselves in an ancient ball of metal and sink themselves deep under the sea for fun.

And then I drank a ton of water, waited until the caffeine induced shaking subsided, and fell asleep.

Drink of the moment: Ace hard cider
Song of the moment: President by I Am X

Wherever the wind blows

Aug.02.2007 7:46pm

 

• Bought five new books, classics in hardcover. Started reading them immediately on the walk home from the book store. Mostly, I am comfortable with getting around however I have to, walking or riding a bike, taking the bus or light rail or rapid transit system depending on where I am or where I am going. Having books around helps entertain my mind during this travel.
• Selling off old clothes, thinning out the collection of what I have. Selling off old CDs, the ones I don’t listen to anymore, things I’ve had forever. Selling off old books too, the paperback novels of the variety found at news stands and drug stores. I have no need for these books I will not read more than once. Generally thinning out the collection of THINGS I have for money. A simpler life is what I am after. As long as I have my good books, my candles and my art supplies, all is fine with me.
   Still looking to get a job at Nordstrom. Will probably be working with a few coworkers from Macy’s. This is good.
• Waiting for various packages in the mail. My tank tops from Old Navy, a sweater, and a corduroy purse that is big enough to fit my essentials {Hardcover journal, book of the moment, several art supplies such as glue and scissors for journal collages of found objects, my compact, wallet, cell phone and cigarettes}. Also looking forward to pocket watch necklace from Urban Outfitters, despite the fact that they have not even confirmed my order yet, I don’t think.
•  Been letting my hair flow wildly, how it wishes, curling and waving in all the wrong places. I don’t care anymore. 
• Went to the dollar store yesterday. Fleur de lis paper puncher, cheap frames I have already painted matte eggplant, tall jarred prayer candle, a small oil lamp…

Scream At The Sun

Jul.30.2007 4:29pm  

Yesterday, whatever day that was, woke up at 12 and promptly put on a black tank top, black leggings, dug through the rest of my posessions tied up in bags and found my mid-calf length black skirt and put that on too. Grabbed a cucumber sandwich I made the night before out of the fridge, a bottle water, and headed out to San Francisco to North Beach. After near-aimless wandering (the best kind!), eating my cucumber sandwich while walking, and scrawling a quick page of notes in my journal and picking up a copy of The Onion I went on a hunt for a sweater that didn’t suck.

Old Navy in San Francisco on a Sunday is about the most frustrating thing. Forever 21 is the second most frustrating thing. The biggest frustration is that I had no idea of any nearby location of any thrift stores, so that was pretty frustrating as well. So I hopped on a train home, read, and contemplated whether or not I should have skipped grabbing some Korean BBQ and got a coffee instead.

Went home, grabbed a good dinner with the folks despite the Greek macaroni being sort of overly buttery and tasteless. I seem to have lost any recollection of what happened between the space between that time (probably six or seven) and the time that I posted a journal entry to my Melodramatic.com account. Either way, after a great gap of time after that I went out with Neal and he bought me some cheese sticks and jalapeno things from Jack in the Crack. Greasy, and delicious in a guilt-inducing sort of way.

Sometime after like 12 Russ saved me from that situation by pulling up next to Neal’s beat up black mustang in the parking lot, then after sending him several secret-language signals that I was bored shitless, ditched Neal to “go home” but really ended up swinging by to see if Genivive & her brother Lee were awake. The light was on and they were miraculously awake. We hopped over to Donut Wheel, attempted horribly difficult Sudoku with numbers 0-9 plus ABCDE&F in every damn row and box. And had our first cup of joe for the night. We hung out, Gen and I had political and other such discussions despite our inability to understand the motivation between the decisions of politicians (Selling advanced weaponry to Saudi Arabia?). Read the most terrible Sunday paper ever, which had so much illiteration it was cheese on top of cheese, most of the travel section filled with a feature of “cute”/really stupid articles on shoes and travelling.

After a good couple of hours of cigarettes, draining our styrofoam cups of coffee with little red straws, ripping and defacing pictures and laughing at articles in the local Sunday paper we headed off to Starbucks and Jamba at Hacienda cause it was open. More coffee, drip black cup of joe, probably strong enough to melt the lining of your stomach.

Lee & Russ went into Jamba and Lee made him the most disgusting matcha green tea boost/soy milk smoothie that supposedly was supposed to give him a rush off of vitamins but really just looked green and gritty and gave him a green soymilk mustache and coated his teeth. Russ felt the need to compare the taste to Cocaine… while a police officer was having his morning cup of joe in the corner listening to our conversations. Gen goes, “You mean like brussel sprouts?” to divert attention from the Cocaine comment and Russ goes… No, like cocaine. You know. Cocaine. When it is dripping down your throat. And maybe also like bad brussel sprouts AND cocaine. Cocaine. Cocaine. etc etc etc. Gen’s eyes just widen and the subject somehow changes to how she almost never smiles (she’s pretty intense). After a good hour doing that, wandered back to Gen & Lee’s but then Lee dropped me off at home and I finally slept sometime around 5 to 1 or 2.. or maybe 3…

Probably going to finally take off these clothes, since this knit tank top has really itchy silver thread stitched into it that makes me feel ickier than any other synthetic fabric in the world. Then heading down to Barnes & Noble, grabbing a cup of joe and read things I don’t intend to buy.

North Beach Poetry Crawl

Jul.29.2007 7:46pm  
Click HERE to see an accompanying article…

Took the train in to San Francisco today, got off after a good read and ride, swung my bag over my shoulder and took off down Montgomery.
Directions took me far but not quite to my destination, upon discovering I had no idea where I was or where I was going, I wandered & climbed up flights and flights of cement steps higher and higher through lush colorful gardens and the patios of residences. Once at the top, I realized I was headed the correct direction and soon found myself at Cafe Trieste. I wanted to take a seat but couldn’t find a chair, with all the ancient bohemians in sweaters and strange hats gesturing and discussing over long-drank espressos and coffees, plates of food scraped clean. I circled the block only to find my way to Columbus street and City Lights book store, and read a page or two of Howl in the poetry reading room after climbing a flight of wooden stairs with pictures of the Beat generation authors on the wall of the hallway, all of them photographed standing in front of City Lights.
I wandered down Jack Kerouac alley after contemplating having a drink or two at Vesuvio where Kerouac himself used to hang out, and writing a few pages in my sketchbook journal.
Pretty lovely day.

Under Gray Gloomy Sky

Took the bus around town today, on my own, exploring and finding my way around to where I want to go. Getting better every day at getting around this new place, and coexisting with my Saint Ben.
Started the day out at Howard’s watching Saint Ben get inked.
Went to work with him, and poked around shelves of beautiful amazing books, snuck sly glances at him in a totally different environment from what I’m used to seeing (Geminis can be such different people in different places, even the most ordinary of places are places where a new facet may shine…)
Caught the 8 to downtown, went roaming around the Library and read the latest issue of ReadyMade and Psychology Today.
Caught the 4 to SRJC

Where next?
I ask myself this question ten times a day. I like where it takes me.

Halloween Swim Team

After a four hour trip to Pleasanton that was cut shorter than the travel time by way, I needed something to shake the gloom.

Brokeness seemingly our specialty, and we’d spent all but our last few dollars on a few meals out and a 12 pack of Pilsner Urquell, the very last few dollars taking us home on a bus from a few towns away where we’d gone exploring for a day after I sat in on band practice with Tight Bikes.

Like every day promises, Saint Ben’s cell phone is ringing constantly before we even get home, and it turns out to be a band from LA we’ve never met or heard of before that Armando, our amazing bike riding, pot smoking, story unravelling photographer friend had found at Aroma Roasters earlier.

They need a show tonight.

“They are called Halloween Swim Team” he tells me after he hangs up, I’m assembling dinner in the kitchen, and I know I am giving him the blankest look after he explains that they are “electronic” like “Kraftwerk”, which is amazing to me but not really enough for me to give a rat’s ass, but Saint Ben is like Santa Rosa’s very own Ambassador to Music, his passion, charity, and knowledge of the local music scene expansive if not never-ending.

Eventually it is decided that they should play either the cemetery or the town square downtown, which is eventually narrowed down to downtown, and we know perfectly well our guerilla impromptu concert could get us fined at the very least. We’re walking briskly towards the downtown gazebo where our little spontaneous music stunt is to happen apparently by generator, and I think about how we’d b crazy enough to spend a night in jail with an indie electro band from LA we’ve just met, and how much I’d not like a run in with the city’s finest today. It is funny that I was thinking this as Ben was finishing his last invitation phone calls probably with Jimmy, and we round the corner to find the lights of SRPD and our buddies are totally already talking to the cops. Fuck.

Eventually, after a lot more awkward and nervous waiting our friends all group together at one end of the park, apparently unfazed by the run in. I look around at our cohorts and find them all mostly to be of the colorful graphic tees and skinny jeans lot, one of them wearing a funny hat made funnier partly by the odd tassell and partly by how lanky he is, and it seems to suit him nicely.

A round of introductions and some pleading later Ben and Jimmy who arrived on his fixed gear moments earlier are going through their phone books trying to find anywhere for these guys to play. Eventually Jimmy says “Fuck it” and they all pile into a van and Jimmy takes off on bike, and we all unload into Jimmy’s studio apartment for an impromptu concert. It isn’t far from fitting a band inside a shoebox. It works, and the two keyboards one gadget guy trio launches into the best set we could have imagined to result in this crazy night. By the end of the 20 minute set the night feels close to an end and we all shake hands and part ways.